A Ghost in His Clothes
by Deepy
Summary: If I was to ask you to come over here and lay in bed with me but not do a thing else, could you do it" Sara's thoughts as Inman holds her that cold night.


A/N: Well, this is scene in the book and in the movie where Inman was laying with Sara. I always wondered what she was thinking during this scene, and if it succeeded in comforting her. Now, I took a bit of liberties and mixed the scene with the one in the book and the one in the movie. Hope no one minds, but I thought that Inman holding her was a nice touch, and was comforting to the both of them. I hope everyone approves!

A Ghost in His Clothes

"If I was to ask you to come over here and lay in bed with me but not do a thing else, could you do it?"

She did not know what made her ask him to do it for her. Something that wasn't right, something that would probably seem crazy, foolish even. This man was only a stranger she hardly knew. And yet, it had been so long since a man had been in the house, had slept in the very same house. Somehow, it brought a sense of well being, of warmth by having another being inside this house. Someone she could possibly talk to, someone to let her know that she was safe, that she had never been alone. It felt like she had lived alone in this house forever, even with the baby, she couldn't shake that feeling within her. Every day now seemed to stretch as far as a lifetime.

It seemed like such a lifetime ago, when life seemed to have opened up to her, and that anything was possible. She had imagined her new life with John, working beside him tending to the crops and to the animals. Raising a family in what had seemed like a beautiful place so long ago. Growing old with him. She had once had a dream, of the two of them, sitting on the front porch of this house. They were old in that dream and watching the sunset. He had a book upon his lap and she was knitting some garments for their grandchildren. Now, this place was her prison, this house a frequent reminder of what could have been, a curse placed upon her.

It was this awful war that had taken John from her, that had sent her into solitude, and that had ruined the perfect life she had imagined. There was never a day that she cursed this war, cursed the false ideals, and most of all, cursed God for taking him away from her. He had never done anything wrong, he did not want to go to war. He had wanted what she wanted, to live in this beautiful place in peace and to have a family. But life never gives us what we want, because here she was, alone, with their son, trying to survive day by day.

All this she told the stranger laying beside her, a stranger wearing John's clothes. He was silent in listening to her tale. And with each word that came out, she felt the sorrow slightly lifted. She talked until her voice was sore and cracked, until the tears threatened to consume her, the tears that bore those memories of long ago, of a simpler time. And he was silent throughout, though she could see he was sad. His eyes were wistful, as if he was also remembering something from long ago. Did he have a love at home also? Was she waiting anxiously for him?

His arm suddenly circled her shoulder. She relaxed, her hand came up to lay flat upon his chest. It had been so long since she had lain with a man, so long since she had been held like this. And so long since she had made love to one. John had been her first and he would be her last, she would never ask it of this stranger. Not even for a taste of love, or even something close. Something to remind her of what she had felt once, a long time ago.

No, tonight, having the warmth of someone beside her was enough. He would be her comfort, and she would be his. And if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that it was John who lay beside her now, whose breath she could feel upon her forehead, who was holding her so closely. Whose warmth she could feel through her nightgown. It was a ghost of him, a ghost in his clothes, who had come back to her. Yes, she could allow herself to think this. She could allow herself to pretend, if only for a night, even if the sorrow would begin anew in the morning. Because only in pretending can she find any solace tonight.


End file.
